Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Oakheart Witherspyk would hear of no such thing. "We all go together, Mother dear, even if I have to carry you on my back!"

Buckler drew his long blade. "There's no need for that, Oakie. Here, you Guosim, let's see if we can't make a litter. Let's lop some good branches off that fallen hazel!"

The combined swords of Buckler and four shrews had soon hewed six useful branches. These were bound, two to either side, with the remaining two spaced crossways to form a stretcher. Oakheart volunteered his tattered cloak as a seat.

They pressed on, with Crumfiss perched comfortably. Diggs, Buckler, Oakheart and Jango, with the assistance of several stout Guosim, shouldered the old hogwife. Not

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missing an opportunity, Dymphnia passed the hogbabe Dubdub over to Crumfiss.

They bobbed along, with Dubdub repeating the end of his grandmother's sentences.

"My my, this is comfy!"

"Comfee comfee!"

"It'll rest my ole paws, indeed it will!"

"Deed 'twill, deed 'twill!"

The going was good, with other volunteers taking the bearers' places. They trotted at a fair rate. Buckler was striding along in the van when he discerned a figure upon the walls, which had grown much closer.

"Look, there's somebeast pacing the walltops yonder!"

Oakheart stood on tippaw, peering keenly. "Hah, 'pon me spikes, there's only one as tall as that at Redwall, as I recall. I'll hail him, eh?"

Being a member of the acting profession, Oakheart prided himself upon his vocal powers. He winked at Buckler. "Projection, sirrah--that's what 'tis all about!"

Drawing forth his funnel-shaped bark hailer, the portly troupe leader boomed majestically forth, "Ahoy, there! Is that a rascally riverdog a-beatin' the bounds? Somebeast name o' Skipper?"

When put to the test, the Otter Chieftain was no slouch at the bellowing game. Leaping up on a battlement, he waved vigorously and gave voice. "Haharrharr! Is that an ole pincushion rollin' this way? Why, salt me rudder, 'tis Oakie Witherspyk 'imself. I'll tell 'em to hold brekkist for ye!"

He vanished with a backward leap. Diggs waggled his ears admiringly at the hedgehog. "You have my thanks, sir. Anybeast who can delay breakfast 'til I jolly well get there is an absolute star amongst creatures, wot!"

Word had spread around the Abbey like wildfire: a travelling troupe, Guosim visitors and two strange hares. Skipper guarded the open north wall wickergate with

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good-natured banter for the press of Redwallers who had gathered there.

"Give 'em a chance to get in, mates. Move back there, Granvy. Here they come, now--stand back. Let the Abbess greet 'er guests!"

Abbess Marjoram took Oakheart's paws warmly, knowing it was not always wise to embrace large hedgehogs.

"May I be the first to welcome old friends, the Witherspyk troupe and our stout Guosim allies!"

Sweeping off his floppy hat, Oakheart bowed low. "Faith, ye can indeed, but let's not stand on ceremony. I'm still Oakie, if you're still Marjy!"

Dubdub piped up, "Still Marjy, still Marjy!"

Amidst the laughter which followed, the Abbess took the hogbabe from Crumfiss's lap. "Well, good morning, little nutnose--and what's your name?"

The infant pointed a chubby paw at himself. "I Dubdub!"

Log a Log Jango nodded to Skipper. "Sorry t'say this, mate, but we're here on business. Bad business--some of our young uns are missin'."

Abbess Marjoram left off tickling Dubdub. "Aye, we've got the same problem. Two of our Dibbuns ain't nowheres t'be found."

Marjoram waved her paws for silence. "Please, friends, the day is still young. There's time aplenty for bad news later. But for now let's all go to breakfast together, be introduced to those we haven't met and mayhaps hear a bit of good news. Follow me to the orchard--it's all set out there."

Picnic mats had been arranged on the grass, laden with food to suit every taste.

Diggs was almost incoherent at the sight. "I say! Burn me blinkin' scut an' rip me old auntie's pinnyfore! It's ... it's ... oh, corks!"

Skipper checked the tubby glutton from diving in head

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first. "Ahoy, young feller, let the Abbess say the grace afore ye start vittlin'."

Marjoram spoke quietly in the silence.

"All hail upon this summer morn, thrice welcome to ye all, who visit us in friendship here, good comrades of Redwall!"

Skipper chuckled. "That's what I like--short'n'sweet!"

He released Diggs, who, at a sharp nudge from Buckler, sat down sedately on the grass and passed a beaker of dandelion and burdock cordial to Trajidia. That done, he fell like a famine-stricken wolf on the food.

Buckler introduced them both to the Abbess. "Pie's Subaltern Digglethwaite, an' I'm Blademaster Buckler Kordyne, from Salamandastron, marm. Call us Diggs'n'Buck, everybeast does."

The Abbess smiled fondly. "Ah, Salamandastron! Tell me, Buck, how is my old friend Lord Brang?"

Buckler loosed his long blade, setting it beside him. "Lord Brang is as mighty as he ever was, marm. He sends his compliments an' good wishes to ye. Oh, an' a pair of new bellropes woven by his own paws. He said they are to replace the old uns. Diggs, pass me that rope."

Diggs was too far gone sampling the delights of mushroom, spring onion and gravy pasties. So his companion had to retrieve the rope from him.

Marjoram ran her paws slowly across both ropes. She produced a kerchief and wiped her eyes. "Poor Brother Tollum would have appreciated these fine gifts. I'll tell you more about that later. Big Bartij, our Gardener and Infirmary aide, has taken over as Bellringer to the Abbey now. Bartij, what d'you think of Lord Brang's present to us--look!"

The sturdy hog inspected the ropes admiringly. "What a pair o' beauties, Mother! Just look it the weave o' these

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ropes, all gold'n'green, too. With fine carved elmwood handles on 'em. Hoho, these'll make ole Methuselah an' Matthias sound out o'er our Abbey like honeyed thunder. I'll fix 'em up right after brekkist. Thank ye, Buck, thank ye kindly!"

Several Dibbuns had gathered around to watch the gluttonous Diggs foddering up. They gazed wide-eyed at the tubby hare, who winked roguishly at them.

A tiny molemaid threw her frilly apron over her face. "Boi 'okey, whurr bee's ee a putten et all?"

Diggs relinquished a hefty fruitcake for a brief moment. "Hollow legs, little beauty--least that's what our regimental cooks says I've bloomin' well got."

Jango's wife, Furm, looked up from her mint tea. "Aye, an' hollow stummick, tail, ears an' head. Invite an 'are-beast t'dinner an' ye'll regret it all yore days. That's wot my ole ma used t'say."

Sister Fumbril was feeding Dubdub his second bowl of arrowroot cream pudding. She grinned. "Land sakes--it looks like this liddle rascal's about t'catch Mister Diggs up, ain't ye, young master?"

The hogbabe echoed her dutifully, "Younger masta!"

The morning was almost half gone when the guests sat back, replete and sighing. Even Diggs was heard to remark, "Hope they hold off with the bally lunch for a while, wot!"

Abbess Marjoram called for their attention. "Now, let's address our problems. Oakie, who have you lost from your family?"

Oakheart sighed. "Two, alas--our lovely little twins, Jiddle an' Jinty, scarce four seasons old. There's another, too, a young shrewmaid, calls herself Flib."

Log a Log Jango made his report. "We lost three, if'n ye count the one Oakie just mentioned. She's a daughter o' mine, y'see."

Furm, the mother of all three shrews, sobbed, "Petunia Rosebud, the one who calls 'erself Flib, is the eldest

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o' the three. She's always wanderin' off an' gettin' into scrapes. Flib can take care of 'erself, but the other two, Midda an' Borti, ain't never gone off afore. My Midda's very young, but she always looks after Borti, pore liddle mite--'e's only a babe. Oh, I 'ope my Borti ain't come to any 'arm!"